


'Tis The Season For Groveling

by Lenore



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Advent Calendar Drabble, Fluff, Holiday, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-11
Updated: 2006-12-11
Packaged: 2017-10-09 00:18:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/80963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lenore/pseuds/Lenore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Advent 06 Day 18. Rodney is sorry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	'Tis The Season For Groveling

Rodney wasted a good hour at the rental car place, because they'd lost his reservation, and there was as desperate a tussle among holiday travelers over the last minivan as he imagined there had been among parents to see who'd get that prized Playstation for little Jimmy or Susie. It took sixty minutes of uninterrupted invective—"Is incompetence the corporate philosophy or did you come up with that yourself?" and "You realize ruining someone's holiday is actionable in court" and "Do you have any idea who I am?"—before they miraculously "found" his reservation and packed him off in a Dodge Caliber that looked as if it had survived a nuclear holocaust or two, roughly the size of a suitcase, which was all the more embittering since his own bags had been "misplaced" by the airline.

Rodney got on the highway and hit the gas and then promptly slammed on the brakes, settling into a much pokier pace, a combination of traffic and poor visibility. He was annoyed all over again that he hadn't got here sooner, that he hadn't had the chance before the holiday actually hit to make things right with Sheppard. He remembered the fraught Christmas Eves growing up, all the simmering antagonism somehow brought to a boil by the expectation that one should be of good cheer, the fresh boughs of holly and pine and the carefully decorated tree an ironic comment in the background of his parents' domestic warfare.

He had planned to fly in a week ago, but then they'd hit a crucial stage in their current research earlier than anticipated. He'd rescheduled his flight for yesterday, bright and early, but around midnight the skies opened up, sheets of rain and high winds, in the _desert_ no less. No planes going anywhere, and it had taken him most of today to finally get off standby and onto an aircraft. Of course, he could have _called_ at any time, but he calculated the odds of John actually forgiving him if he went this route hovering close to zero. He wasn't all that good at _sounding_ sorry, and he kept hoping if they were face to face that maybe John would somehow just _see_ it.

An hour later, Rodney pulled into John's condo complex, and as he got out of the car, an enormous, fluffy snowflake landed on his shoulder.

"Great, just great," he muttered.

Now his arrival was going to have all the maudlin appearances of one of those made-for-TV Christmas movies. The only things missing were the syrupy music and an adorable urchin...and the happy ending. Hell, he didn't even know for a fact that he was still invited.

He trudged up the stairs to John's apartment. The wind cut through his jacket like a razor; his heavy winter coat was in his bag, wherever that was. It took him a moment to gather up his courage to knock, and might have taken even longer if he hadn't been so cold. He had to remind himself not to hold his breath while he waited. The door swung open at last, and there was John, his face lighting up with surprise.

Rodney shifted uncomfortably. "Um— I guess I should have called first, but there was this work thing and then this stupid weather thing and the even stupider airline and the utterly moronic rental car company and—" He finally ran out of breath.

John leaned against the doorframe and gave him one of those looks of his that could have meant, "You amuse me, you know that?" or "Cut the bullshit, McKay." Rodney really couldn't tell which.

Over John's shoulder, he spotted a Christmas tree, kind of scraggly, as if it had been the last tree on the lot, decorated with a mish mash of ornaments that looked as if they'd been donated to the cause secondhand. Still, a Christmas tree, with a few packages under it, the colored lights cheerfully flashing on and off, and Rodney really wouldn't have guessed that John was the type.

He swallowed hard. "I don't even have anything to give you. I mean, I _did_, but apparently my luggage is halfway to Tahiti by now."

John took a moment, sizing Rodney up, and then he said. "Well, you're _here_, which at least gives me a good reason for putting up this stupid tree." And he broke into a grin.

It wasn't often that Rodney was behind the curve, but this was one of those rare times. "You mean—"

"Get your ass in here." John tugged at his sleeve, and then they were in each other's arms. Rodney pressed his face against John's neck, breathing in his warm skin, and he began to babble, everything he'd wanted to say but couldn't, and he made an amazing discovery.

It was a lot easier to say you were sorry and sound like you meant it when you did your groveling for forgiveness in between kisses.


End file.
